Or locusts vegetation. To enrich us !
Your pardon, sir. Out of pure charity
You have then crossed the ocean: kindly come

To pour the rich o'erflowings of your cup
Into our empty chalice. Have you, then,
No work for your benevolence at home?
No ignorance to school? No sharp disease
That cannot find an hospital of mercy?
No sighs to hush-no tears to wipe away
Of your poor fellow countrymen? Believe me,
Your nation, sir, may find a home consumption
For all the human kindness it exports.

Look at nature:

The lordly oak throws not its branches far,
But meets a flower to shelter from the storm:
Nor does a sea of roaring waters sever

The poor man's hovel from the proud man's dome. Gov. Still you will warp our purpose from the truth.

We came to do you service: to exchange

Our wealth for your's in honourable traffic:

To soften, to inform, to civilize.

Raym. To civilize! Peru and Mexico!

Pizarro Cortez ! witness ye the deed!

Yet, they had human shape, and bore God's image. Oh, what a wilderness of human bones

You made of that terrestrial paradise!
Hell gave the word, and havoc was unsheath'd:
Rivers ran blood into the frighted sea:

Earth was a common sepulchre ! The sun,
Thro' the hot steam of human massacre,
Look'd pale: whilst, o'er the dying and the dead,
The vultures, hov'ring on the tainted air,

Scream'd their wild raptures to the famish'd wolves. Gov. These were our fathers' doings; we abhor them:

And it would shew a braver spirit, sir,

To let them now be shrouded with the dust,

That cannot rise and answer ye.

Raym. Indeed!

Shall we, the living, for example kill,

Yet scruple to anatomize the dead?
Shall the sepulchred spoilers of the earth

Rot, and no record have but lying marble?

No. 'Tis some check to mad ambition's havoc,

That when the grave his phrenzied dream has closed,
He has a reckoning with posterity.

But to the purpose. You are come as friends:
Your actions will prove that. This, sir, at parting..
'Tis not by deeds of brotherhood like this
The Creeks will reckon on your kind intentions,
What, hoa! who waits there?

Enter Guards.

Shew me to my dungeon.

[Exit RAYMOND.

Manet Gov. His presence awes me; yet he must

be won.

A braver spirit never breath'd in man;

A nobler form moved never in a god.

(To ABDALLAH.) Go, bid my daughter wait me in her chamber.

That done, dispatch thee to the Indian chief,

Prostrate thyself, and proffer him thy service.

[Exeunt different ways.

Scene, a Wood.

TELICO and POTOWMAK.

Tel. Raymond a prisoner!

Pot. Ay, curses on him!

Tel. I could curse deeply, for I love him not. Besides that he has robb'd me of my hope, Dominion o'er the nations of the Creeks, He taunts me in the presence of our tribes For being savage: when I bring my scalps, He calls them trophies of a rude barbarian. Thrice my own captives, when the fire was kindled, He has releas'd from torture. How I hate him!

Pot. He robb'd thee of dominion, that stings home: Me of a woman whom I lov'd as life.

And if I do forgive him—

Tel. Thou'rt no Indian.

Enter a Creek.

Creek. They are Spaniards.

Tel. Bring them.

Creek. They're here.

Enter Creeks with FLORIO, FERNANDEZ, and

GASPRO, bound.

Tel. Your business here? who are you?

(To FERNANDEZ.)

Fer. Son to the Spanish Governor.

Tel. Ha? (Aside.) And you (TO FLORIO.)

What is your name?

Flo. I don't just now recollect it.

Tel. Away with them, how they shall be disposed of, we'll think anon.

Flo. In the mean time you will give directions, that a picture of which I have been plundered be restored.

A Creek. This is it.

Pot. Give me the picture. (Snatches it.) I have a use for it; when it has served my purpose, it shall be yours again, Spaniard.

Tel. Away with them.

[Exeunt FLORIO, FERNANDEZ, and GASPRO.

The light dawns on me, and my vigorous blood Leaps through my veins at the bright dawn of ven

geance.

Pot. Their death shall cry for Raymond's.
Tel. Nay not so:

That policy, a Spaniard might have hit on.

Grant if we kill these Spaniards, Raymond dies;
But then we stir the vengeance of these white men.
Why do the deed, when the report will serve us?
E'er night-fall it shall reach the governor's ear
His son has perish'd — Raymond's death will follow.
Then when the Spaniard raging for revenge
Sends forth his bloody myrmidons to hunt us,
We will produce untouch'd our noble captives,
And change their cry of war tograteful praises
On our humanity. Looks not this well?
Pot. I think it cannot fail.

Tel.

It shall not fail!
So marvel not, I treat with courtesy

These Spaniards, whom I hate as deadliest foes.
The panther roars not, till his trembling prey
Pants in his gripe: the monarch of the air
Screams when he plants his talons. So will I,
When I can strike, sound shrilly in the ears